Chapter 8 A Dangerous Game Of Desire

• The ballroom was a shimmering sea of elegance, but all Madeline felt was the suffocating weight of Ivan’s presence.
• Madeline exhaled slowly, gripping the champagne flute in her hand. The gold liquid inside trembled, mirroring the way her pulse thrummed in her veins. The ballroom was alive with murmured conversations, clinking glasses, and the soft melody of a classical orchestra.
• She had thought tonight would be simple. A social event, nothing more. But then Ivan had arrived—watchful, brooding, exuding power in a tailored black suit that did nothing to hide the sharp edges of his dominance.